


proxy

by chickennezal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickennezal/pseuds/chickennezal
Summary: “But if you need help getting it out of your system, just know I’m down for it."
Relationships: Semi Eita/Reader
Kudos: 84
Collections: Shiratorizawa Fanweek 2020





	proxy

It’s hard to miss it — the hint of sentimentality in the way you looked at him.

Semi didn’t expect you to frequent these parties, spare him a glance and approach him no less. So it flummoxed him when you did, but not so much when it turned out you’d only mistaken him for someone else.

It’s how he finds out that, despite being in the same evening class, you knew him neither by name nor by face. He’s not surprised by this, not when you’re always seated near the back door and constantly slipping in and out of class to god knows where.

“Sorry! Thought you were someone I knew.”

He’s not used to seeing you outside your usual ensemble of leggings and oversized hoodies. But you don’t look half bad tonight, all embellished from head to toe, unwittingly turning heads left and right. 

Maybe he’ll take his chances.

“Let me get you a drink so we can work on the _knowing_ part.” 

You study him carefully before allowing yourself a smile. “Sure.”

* * *

You take him back to your dorm that night.

Laying on the couch with his head resting on your chest, you confide in him about your unrequited feelings for a certain person. How you’ve been mindlessly chasing them for years, only to see another person make them smile the way you couldn’t. 

And in spite of your shame, you admit a twisted part of you would’ve been content experiencing their touch at least once before moving on. Semi finds himself all ears as he digests all this, not too proud of the thoughts brewing in his head.

“He’s the same guy I mistook you for earlier.” You reach out to muss up his hair, a nostalgic smile crossing your face. “Same gray hair and chiseled features and sort of scary eyes.”

“ _Scary_?” At this, you let out a chuckle, soft and tooth-rottingly sweet, and Semi can’t hold back the curve forming on the corners of his lips. He lets his hands meander over your hips, the mere feel of them enough to drug and muddle his thoughts.

“I figured that much,” he says, then pauses to consider his next words carefully. “But if you need help getting it out of your system, just know I’m down for it.” For a while, only a passive look comes as your response.

“That would be unfair for you.”

“Not if I’m willing.”

“Even if I imagine you as someone else?”

He lifts his head and starts nipping at your neck. “Yeah.”

“You’re just horny.”

“Maybe.”

* * *

You start sitting beside him in class, and Semi learns that you’re an observer.

You can be smart when you feel like it, like when others’ opinions come out too strong during recitation, and you whisper to him the tiniest flaws in their logic that everyone else is too preoccupied to notice.

But most of the time your observations were outright, crackhead-level stupid, and he wants to bawl and curse you and ask where the fuck you get the brain cells to make a resemblance between the professor’s wrinkles and the Sorting Hat from Harry Potter?

You’ll get him sent out of class one of these days—he’s sure of it—and he’ll pin the blame on you for charming him more than he can handle.

* * *

You learn that he has an ear for music.

That he had a habit of carving songs into his head, from the notes down to the rhythm, playing it over and over until assembling the tune came as easy breaking it apart.

He does the same with you.

Rouse your moans to the pitch of his liking, only to hear them shatter in fragments of breathlessness when you reach your orgasm. It’s euphoric, and he found himself hooked the first time he hears it, sought it out the same way he would a song he hears on the radio for the first time.

So he came back every night.

Every week.

Again—

—and again because it’s never enough just replaying everything in his head anymore. 

You sound your best right now (though he says this every time), when your gasps harmonize with his. With the erotic subtones of bed creaking and sharp skin slapping, only amplified when he presses you flat into the mattress with his crushing weight.

He shuts his eyes and soaks up every sound in the room—even the occasional whispers of _a certain name_ that comes out of your lips soft and sweet, yet enters his ears harsh and piercing.

He considers getting his ears checked for signs of internal bleeding.

* * *

“That’s fucked up.”

Semi only takes a long swig from his bottle, not bothering to respond. Why was he even talking about this with Tendou of all people?

“So you’re filling in for someone she can’t have?” The readhead might as well have punctured him in the gut while he’s at it.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just a hook up.” 

Silence passes them for a while. His words make their way to his lungs, clogging it up to uncomfortable extremities.

“I hear there’s this new degree the admins came up with. It’s called BS-Clownery. You’d fit in swimmingly.”

The succeeding drinks were on Tendou that night.

* * *

Maybe he is a clown after all.

Otherwise, there wouldn’t be any of this bitter attachment towards you, freely using him to satisfy unrequited feelings. And yet, the mounting pain feels so good it washes over him in waves that he wishes would never pass.

Semi didn’t want this pass. 

Maybe it’s why he’s still here, hanging at your place on the last week of the semester, watching you hover over the boxes of pizza with surprise and craving leaking from your face.

“What are we celebrating?” 

“Surviving the semester. Never getting sent out of class despite multiple warnings. You passing.”

You allow yourself a proud smile.

“You mean _us_ passing.”

“Yeah, but you almost didn’t.” No thanks to your poor attendance. You laugh in understanding before he continues counting all the other small causes for celebration off his fingers.

Being a step closer to graduation. Regaining a normal sleep cycle. Summer break, finally. Life in general.

Meeting you.

* * *

He appreciates your abstract ramblings.

You once told him that the closest people can get to experiencing eternity was to lay awake and bask in the darkness. In the softness, the quiet, and the sense of rest one can only get in the dead of night.

It’s past two am and Semi wants to ask you if eternity felt like being six feet deep and six feet off the ground at the same time. That's how he felt at the moment.

But you’re asleep, nuzzled into the crook of his neck with your arms sprawled across his chest like no one else can have him but you. He likes that thought, and he likes how the feel of your lashes on his skin and the steady rise and fall of your chest are enough to calm him, dispel the tussle of conflicting thoughts in his head.

He slowly grazes his fingers on the hollow of your back, as slow as this moment seemed to pass, as if caught in a standstill. Semi understands—this is what you meant.

His consciousness must have been starting to ebb away because, just as sleep was about to take him, he thinks he hears you mumble something in your sleep.

“...Eita..”

He wraps both arms around you, sure that he’d heard that correctly.


End file.
